There was movement. I couldn’t actually see her door, but somehow, I knew she’d cracked it open. It was a shift in the atmosphere. I knew she opened it just as assuredly as I knew that she tried to force it closed.
Then the piece of shit was trying to shove it open. He reeled back, lifted a foot, and kicked it in.
Rynna.
Rynna.
Every fear I’d ever had tumbled free and lit my veins.
Gasoline and flames.
My soul screamed.
I wouldn’t fucking let this happen.
Not again. I flew out my door, down the steps, and across the street before I was barreling up hers.
My heart was in my fucking throat, stomach twisted in a single knot of dread. Dread that raged. A steely demand that I protect her.
Save her. Defend her. Keep her. It chanted through that hollow space.
Would have run out to protect anyone. I knew I would. Still, there was no questioning the driving force was completely different when I came up behind the bastard and saw Rynna sobbing on the ground.
Fear consumed her, her expression full of horror and pleas as she scooted back across the floor.
He loomed over her, encroaching, filled with that rage I’d sworn I’d witnessed from the window. He was spewing a verbal attack I knew was mere seconds from becoming physical. “You fucking bitch. You ruined my life.”
He was so consumed with debasing her that he hadn’t noticed I was there. That I was inching forward, trying to quiet my breaths that were jolting from my lungs in spastic quakes.
A chill climbed to the air. Freezing. Clotting the tension. Every second stretched out. Dense and dark and deep.
A whimper from the ground, and my heart nearly fucking left my chest when those java eyes flashed my direction.
It only lasted for one of those extended seconds, but there was more communication in that brief exchange than in any conversation I’d ever had in my life.
Relief.
Deliverance.
Trust.
She poured it into me. Filling me full.
And this girl . . . this girl looked right back at him, continuing to beg like I wasn’t even there.
So fucking smart and aware.
It would make taking out this piece of shit a whole ton easier than it would have been if he knew I was coming.
He didn’t.
I rushed, and from behind, I hooked my arm around his neck. I cinched down against his throat, my other hand held around my wrist to keep my hold locked tight, my mouth at his ear. “Hey, fucker, remember me? Warned you last time if you didn’t leave the girl alone, you wouldn’t be able to walk away. You think I was joking?”
For a blink, he went slack, a huge breath sucked into his lungs at his surprise, his own awareness seeping through his rage and into his consciousness. That was all it took for every muscle in his body to tighten before the bastard started fighting back. His fingers sank into the flesh of my forearm, nails digging in like a bitch, the pussy battling to break free.
I tightened my hold, teeth gritted as I struggled to keep him restrained. “Rynna, call the police so we can send this dick where he belongs.”
She was already on her knees, pushing to stand, her limbs shaking uncontrollably as she tried to find balance. Her eyes darted to the spot behind me where I remembered she’d stowed her purse the night I’d shown up here with Frankie.
No doubt, that was where her cell phone was.
I met those eyes again, not needing to say a word.
Go. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.
She bolted that direction.
The bastard thrashed, throwing an elbow into my ribs at the same time as he threw back his head. His skull cracking against my nose almost sent me to my knees. Pain exploded across my face. Blinding. Splitting. Enough that I momentarily lost my hold.
It gave him enough time to kick out a leg, tripping Rynna as she was rushing around us to make it to her purse.
She flew forward, slamming her head against the corner of the entryway table that was set against the wall next to the door as she fell face-first to the ground.
Rage.
This time it was my own.
“You asshole. You think I’m gonna stand here and let you hurt her?”
Never.
Fuck.
Never.
Once again, he was going her direction. I lunged for him, plowing into his side and catching him off guard. He stumbled and lost his footing. The two of us toppled to the floor where we were a tangle of limbs and punches and splattering blood.
His.
Mine.
I straddled his chest. Pounding my fist into his face. Blow after blow.
But the fucker fought. Fought and fought and fought.
Clipping me on the chin, he sent me sailing back, and he scrambled to get on top of me. He was on me, pinning me down. He smashed his elbow into my cheek.